


The Murdock Mystery (redux)

by whitchry9



Series: The Murdock Mysteries [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), House M.D.
Genre: Blind Character, Disabled Character, Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Medical, Medical Mystery, Remix, Seizures, Surgery, matt has the devil in him, medical speak, medical treatment, questionable medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: While at a conference in Princeton, Matt collapses. Dr House, who's more interested in whether Matt is actually blind or not, is sure it's something simple and thus boring. But then Matt develops more symptoms and starts getting sicker, and House has to turn his attention back to the medicine before Foggy gets really serious about suing them.Alternating POVs.WOW LOOK IT'S A REMIX





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey remember like two years ago when I said I wanted to redo this fic with a different diagnosis? Yeah, I've finally finished it.
> 
> This is a remix, so it's essentially the same fic, but with different symptoms and a different diagnosis. So some of the events along the way are different, even if a lot of the dialogue and descriptions are similar, if not the same as the original.
> 
> Same number of chapters, slightly lower word count.

Matt really hated hospitals. Not solely for the fact that his only memories of being in a hospital were when he lost his sight and was overwhelmed by everything he could suddenly hear and smell and feel and taste (oh god the hospital was the worst for that), but also because no matter how much he managed to control his senses, being in the hospital still hurt. Whenever he was tired, in pain, or ill (of which he was currently all three) it was harder to control his senses. Which made the hospital the last place he wanted to be while he was feeling like that.

Of course, collapsing in their hotel room sort of took his opinion out of the equation, which was what Foggy told him when he woke up in the ER.

Before he could even protest, or ask why the hell he was in an ER, Foggy spoke.

“You passed out in our hotel room. Luckily I had a key, because I was super close to breaking the door down with my bare hands.” A pause. “Or calling someone. But I would have tried to break it down.”

Matt attempted a smile.

“Plus you freaked me out,” Foggy admitted.

Matt closed his eyes and tried to take stock of his body without letting too much of... everything else in. He was tired and ached all over, but his headache was slightly better.

“What did they give me?” he asked.

“Well, they're not really sure why you passed out. They said it could have been a seizure, but there weren't any signs of one. They've got you on fluids and some meds now that are apparently supposed to make you feel better.”

Matt nodded slightly. “I can tell.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were sick? We could have stayed home.”

“We,” Matt repeated. “That's why. I know you really wanted to come to this, and if you knew I was sick, would have insisted on staying home. Besides, it was just a headache. No reason to stay home.”

“Well, yeah. It's not everyday there's a conference on the legalities of suing for superhero damages, but you come first.”

Matt sighed. “See,” he sighed. “That right there is why I didn't tell you. I want you to enjoy this weekend. Go back to the conference.”

He totally heard Foggy roll his eyes. “You're an idiot Matt. I'm not going back without you. Did you really think I was so interested in whether damage by Thor could be considered an act of God or not? I wanted us to have a fun weekend, with no crime fighting for you, laughing about how we had to hold the conference in New Jersey so that if New York had another 'incident' we wouldn't have to cancel it.”

Matt managed a smile. It was funny because it was true.

“When can I leave?” he asked, changing the subject, because he wasn't ready to deal with the whole guilt thing.

“I think they're keeping you at least overnight, run some more tests.” Foggy lowered his voice. “Hey, are you okay with this? I know that you're really sensitive to, well, everything, and if being here is too much, I will totally hijack an ambulance with all the medical supplies you need and get us out of here.”

Matt smiled again. “I'll be okay for at least one night,” he told Foggy, and he really hoped it was true.

 

* * *

 

Cuddy was trying to interest House in a case that he absolutely wasn't interested in, and he was limping away as fast as possible.

It was never fast enough though, even with Cuddy in her high heels.

“Oh come on, House, please. Blind lawyer passed out. No sign of a seizure, no recent head trauma, and he's not dehydrated.”

“Don't care.”

“He's covered in scars. Looks like he's from fight club.”

House shushed her. “We don't talk about it,” he whispered loudly.

Cuddy was still holding the file out, and he snatched it from her hand, mostly so she would go away.

“Only because I want to throw things at him,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes and walked away.

House skimmed the chart. Matthew Murdock from New York City, had collapsed in his hotel room while visiting for a conference. The ER labs weren't complete, but the CBC showed elevated white blood cell count, hemoglobin, and hematocrit.

“Jesus, don't tell me they can't handle a simple fainting on their own,” House said out loud. A passing nurse startled, and he glared at her. “Why does Cuddy bother me with such simple things. Is this punishment for not doing clinic duty?”

He flipped through the rest of the chart. Headache, dizziness, bruising that may or may not have been excessive due to that whole being in a fight club thing. Nothing really interesting.

Then he got to the pictures.

Clearly concerned about abuse, the ER doctor had taken photographs of Murdock's numerous scars and still healing wounds. (The bruising was also present, but whether it was due to being from whatever the cause of the wounds were or something unrelated was anyone's guess.)

Cuddy was right about him being in a fight club. Either that, or he was someone's personal punching bag. And knife target. And occasional gun target as well, but whoever was shooting at him had awful aim, since House could only spot grazes, and no serious wounds.

House kind of wanted to go see him just to categorize all the different injuries and see if he could get Murdock to admit what had happened. It was just the sort of challenge he relished, with the opportunity to piss off his patient and his boss.

But he would wait until the guy was moved to a room, since the ER was filled with all sorts of icky things, and he had no desire to catch 17 kinds of STDs.

No, he would go bother Wilson first and steal half of his lunch. Cancer could cause the guy's symptoms, so it was almost a consult.


	2. Chapter 2

They got Matt transferred to a room. It was a single room, and Matt really didn't know how they were supposed to afford that. He did appreciate it though. The ER was loud and offensive to all of his senses.

His headache was still less than it had been before, and he was feeling a bit better, which was probably thanks to the fluids. His muscles were aching, even though he hadn't done anything strenuous in nearly a week. Maybe he'd had a seizure, even if there hadn't been any signs. It would explain the exhaustion and pain.

Foggy had left to go deal with some paperwork (insurance probably, Matt didn't even want to know how that was going to go) but promised to be back as soon as he could.

The nurse had gotten him settled and left. There was a television in the room, but Matt didn't want to try to figure it out, and it wouldn't have described video anyway, so it wasn't worth it. He could have been able to convince Foggy to go to the hotel to get his laptop, but if he was only going to be there for one night, it really wasn't worth it. He sighed.

He tried not to listen to the patients in the rooms around him, or the nurses gossiping at the desk, but he couldn't really help it. He knew the woman in the room next to his had pneumonia, because he could hear the rattle in every breath. She was on the mend though. The man in the room to his other side was in a lot of pain, possibly due to a kidney stone.

And the nurses at the desk were talking about... him, probably. He heard something about an attractive man who was being abused by his boyfriend. Most people assumed that's what Foggy was when they heard the term 'partner', and with the scars covering his body, it wasn't a difficult leap.

Matt heard someone coming. His gait wasn't steady, and there was an additional sound. He was using a cane. Dr House then.

One of the nurses had mentioned him when she was introducing herself to Matt.

“Oh, you have Dr House?” she asked, skimming through his chart.

“I guess,” Matt replied.

“Don't take much of what he says to heart, alright dear?”

Matt tilted his head. “Why's that?”

“He's not the most personable doctor. He probably won't introduce himself, but he's the one with the cane. Now, your call button is here,” she told him, and continued on.

Matt wondered just how bad the guy could really be.

 

* * *

 

After stealing half of Wilson's fries and his apple, House wandered up to the floor where Murdock's room was. A quick glance in revealed no pesky relatives or friends, which meant no one would stop him.

House rolled his ball around in his hand and contemplated just how angry the guy would get.

Eh, he didn't care.

Letting himself into the room, House lobbed the ball at Murdock's bed, making sure it landed on his lap.

Murdock didn't seem too started by it, but felt around and picked it up.

“Did you think that would be funny?” he asked. “Or did you think I'd catch it. Other people have done that before.”

“Mostly cause I thought it would be funny,” House retorted.

“Who are you?” Murdock asked.

“A candy striper. I know you can't see it, but I look adorable in the skirt.”

“You must be Dr House,” he replied. “The nurses warned me about you.”

“Don't listen to them,” House dismissed. “They've tried to report me for sexual harassment as well.” He limped over to the chair beside Murdock's bed.

Murdock tilted his head. “What happened to your leg?”

“Oh wow, aren't you clever. And to answer your question, I'm not telling. You're not a level four friend yet.”

Murdock smirked. “You have many of those?” He kept turning the ball over in his hands, and House kind of wanted to snatch it back. Not yet. He was biding his time.

“Probably the same number as you, going by the collection of scars you've got.”

Murdock froze.

“I'm not going to call a social worker or anything on you, but I gotta know. Are you in some sort of blind fight club?”

Murdock tossed the ball up a little and caught it before answering.

“The first rule of fight club,” he said seriously.

“Wow, how do you even know that? Have you seen the movie? Oh wait.”

Murdock smirked again. “I wasn't born blind.”

“Yeah, but were you blind in 1999 when the movie came out? Or did daddy not let you go because violence is bad for growing boys.”

Murdock froze again, then seemed to calm himself down a bit.

“Already blind. But they do amazing things with descriptive audio.”

“Really?”

“No. But I do have a friend who's willing to narrate for me.”

“Matt, who's this?”

House assumed that was said friend. He got to his feet and smiled, holding his hand out for the man to shake. “I'm Dr House, and I'm in charge of your friend's medical care.”

The man looked relieved. “Foggy Nelson. I'm his partner.”

House looked between them. “I'm gonna need you to clarify what kind of partner. It could be medically relevant,” he added meaningfully. Which could have been true, but probably wasn't.

“Business partner,” Murdock told him, while Nelson stammered something out.

“You're a lawyer with the name Foggy? How do they not laugh you out of court?”

Nelson narrowed his eyes at House.

“Nickname,” Murdock interjected.

“How is he?” Nelson asked, changing the subject. House suspected that Murdock would have been happier to discuss anything but his own health, but went along with it.

“Overworked, overpaid, and overtired.”

“Well, two of those things are true,” Murdock sighed.

Nelson snorted. “We're lucky if we make enough to keep the lights on. Not that it matters for him, but other people do need them.”

House ignored that quip. “Based on the clinical symptoms, the ER transferred him to me, because they weren't sure what was wrong with him. Since they're mostly idiots, that's probably best for you. My team is going to run more tests, see if they can find out why you passed out and if it was a seizure. There's also some other things going on that could be related to the...” House waved his hand at Murdock's entire body, “Whatever fight club or BDSM he does in his spare time, or the thing that's making him sick. But we can't know, so we have to test. Lab tests, heart tests, the works.”

Nelson looked only slightly relieved. “Good. Thank you.”

House rolled his eyes and limped back to the door.

He realized he'd forgotten something when it hit him, literally. He turned just in time for the ball to hit his chest and bounce back across the room.

Murdock looked entirely innocent sitting in the bed. His friend was staring wide eyed.

“Don't you know it's rude to throw things at disabled people,” House drawled, bending over to pick up his beloved ball.

Murdock only smirked at him.

“Wasn't me,” Nelson muttered, slouching in his chair. “If anyone cares.”

House waved at both of them and slid the door shut.

The case still wasn't worth his time, but it was promising to be slightly more interesting than he'd originally thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, there are now definitions/explanations of medical terms at the end of the chapter!

“Differential diagnosis on a blind lawyer with surprisingly good aim.”

“Are those his only symptoms?” Foreman asked. “Because there really is no differential for that.”

House waved a hand, writing on the whiteboard with the other. “Well, he did pass out. ER docs don't know what to think.”

“And what do you think?” Chase asked.

“That they're idiots, but that shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. Other symptoms include headache, dizziness, and bruising, which may be unrelated. Labs aren't back yet except for a CBC, which shows elevated white count, hemoglobin, and hematocrit, which is 68% by the way, so could be an issue.”

The team exchanged glances before starting in on the differential.

“Dehydration from an infection?” Foreman offered. “Elevated blood counts could just be relative due to decreased blood volume. Elevated white count could be from any sort of causative infection.”

“ER gave him fluids, so if it's due to that, we'll find out. Repeat it, see if it was a lab error.”

“Why are we on this case?” Chase asked, frowning. “This is boring, even by our standards. You must be bored out of your mind. How did Cuddy get you to take it?”

“What? And leave a poor blind man sick and hurting?” House gasped, holding a hand to his heart. “How could I be so cruel?”

The team collectively rolled their eyes.

“Polycythemia, either primary or secondary?” Chase offered.

Cameron nodded. “Worth testing for. It's more likely the polycythemia is secondary. Any history of smoking? Chronic hypoxemia can lead to polycythemia as a compensatory mechanism. And there's any number of genetic causes.”

“Test him,” House ordered.

“Splenomegaly would indicate primary polycythemia is more likely,” Foreman added.

“Well then check. Really, do I have to tell you to do everything around here?”

“Kidney disease could cause increased release of EPO. Any kidney problems?”

“He hasn't reported anything, but he's an idiot, so assume it's possible,” House told them.

“Vitals are a bit elevated,” Cameron noted. “Although it could be from the stress of being in the hospital.”

“Lupus?” Chase asked.

House rolled his eyes. “It's never lupus, how many times do I have to tell you this? Something else.”

“Do we have baseline labs for him?” Cameron asked. “Maybe he normally has an elevated hematocrit and hemoglobin.”

“No, we don't, because apparently the last time our patient was in a hospital he was a child. Guess the guy isn't fond of doctors. But it's an awfully high hematocrit for baseline. Kind of close to thickening his blood to the point where it just won't go through the capillaries.”

Cameron frowned.

“Brain tumour explains the headache,” Foreman added.

“I will consult with Wilson,” House declared.

“Leukemia,” Cameron said. “Did the lab check to see if the red blood cells were mature? If not, it could be leukemia. Would explain the bruising and headache. Dizziness could be due to anemia from a lack of mature red blood cells to carry oxygen.”

House wrote it on the board. “Another Wilson consult. Let's just test him for all the cancers.”

“I think what's most important is to determine what's causing the polycythemia, if it is polycythemia, so we can correct it and see if any symptoms remain,” Foreman said. “A heart defect, sleep apnea, blood doping, they can all cause polycythemia and the other symptoms, or the other symptoms could be due to something else. His symptoms really aren't pointing to anything specific, at least not yet,” he added.

“So you want to wait and see if more show up?” Cameron asked.

Foreman rolled his eyes. “No, but we could use the time to run tests and see if the elevated hematocrit was a lab error or goes away with the fluids. Maybe take a more thorough history, see if there are any other symptoms that he may have written off.”

House made a face and waved a hand. “Histories are usually boring, aren't they. But I have a feeling this guy's will be a bit more interesting.”

“Why's that?” Cameron asked.

“Oh, did I forget to mention? He's covered in scars.”

He used the remote to turn the projector on, which showed an image of Murdock's torso that had been taken in the ER.

Cameron gasped, and the other team members couldn't hide their sharp inhales.

“Is this relevant?” Chase asked. “Or is it a case of abuse?”

House shrugged. “Who knows. The bruising could be related to whatever caused the injuries or it could be a symptom. I only care if it's a symptom. But it does make the case more interesting. Social workers are not to be involved or police. Cuddy thinks he's in a fight club, but you know what the first rule of fight club is.”       

He held a finger to his lips. “Although Cameron has probably never seen the movie, cause _violent._ ”

She looked affronted and started to open her mouth, but House zipped out of the room before she could.

Right into Wilson's office.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Matt,” Foggy sighed. “Why did you throw the ball at him?”

“He threw it at me first,” Matt protested.

“Seriously?” Foggy sounded skeptical. “He threw a ball at a blind guy?”

“Onto my lap, but yeah. Apparently he has a reputation for being a dick.”

“I'm going to look him up,” Foggy announced, getting out his phone.

“How did the paperwork go?” Matt asked softly.

“Don't you worry about it,” Foggy instructed. “Oh boy, I've found an entire site dedicated to this guy. Run by fans. Or... haters? It's kind of hard to tell.”

“Are you going to share?” Matt sighed.

“'Dr House is by far the most arrogant and abrasive man I've ever met, and also the most intelligent and gifted when it comes to medicine,'” Foggy read. “And that's one of the cleaner ones. A lot of the others have a lot of swearing, but generally come to the same conclusion. He's arrogant because he's that's good. Definitely more of an asshole than he needs to be, but worth all the fuss.”

Matt hummed, considering it. “Do you think he'll figure out the scars?” he asked quietly.

“What? Oh, no. Probably not. Hopefully you'll only be here for a night, so it shouldn't come up too often.”

“I'm not the best at lying,” Matt admitted.

Foggy laughed. “No kidding buddy. Keep it vague. New York is pretty dangerous after all, and if all else fails, play the blind card. They all fall for that.”

Matt hummed again. “I think I'm going to try to sleep,” he told Foggy, closing his eyes. “You should go back to the hotel.”

Foggy scoffed. “Like I'm going to leave you here alone. I know when the last time you were in a hospital was. I'm not going to make you do this alone.”

Matt smiled. “You're the best damn avocado a guy could ask for.”

“Damn right,” he replied. “Now go to sleep.”

Matt obeyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EPO- Erythropoietin, secreted by the kidney and stimulates red blood cell production, so too much of this can result in too many red blood cells   
> Polycythemia- essentially when there are too many red blood cells in the blood  
> Splenomegaly- enlargement of the spleen  
> CBC- complete blood count, measures the numbers of white blood cells, red blood cells, and platelets in a blood sample  
> Hematocrit- this is the ratio of red blood cells in the blood compared to the overall volume. It's basically a percentage, and it's normally around 40% for men.  
> Hemoglobin- this is the protein in red blood cells that carries oxygen


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I changed anything in this chapter? IDK, enjoy it again then.

“I don't think he's blind,” House told Wilson, lying on his back on the couch in his office. He was tossing his ball in the air above him and catching it.

Wilson sighed, long suffering.

“Why? Because he threw a ball and managed to hit you? That's hardly definitive.”

House hummed. “He wasn't surprised that I threw a ball at him, and he knew about my leg.”

“He heard your cane?” Wilson suggested.

“But that's no fun,” House protested.

“Not everything is 'fun' and not every patient is lying, certainly not about something as big as that. Why would anyone ever pretend to be blind?”

“Sympathy? Chicks dig blind guys.”

Wilson sighed and ran his hands over his face. House didn't mention that he'd managed to get pen on his cheek. “Really? Pretending to be blind for every single day of his life, just to get a few girls? There are easier ways.”

“Wilson, you dog.”

“If you really think he's blind, why aren't you in there questioning him instead of bothering me? Shine a light in his eyes, check his medical records, anything but distracting me.”

“But it's so fun,” House whined, but he swung his legs off the couch and sat up. He considered, then threw the ball at Wilson's desk. It bounced harmlessly off, but Wilson still startled.

“What was that for?” he demanded.

House shrugged. “Just proving a point. Scared you, didn't it?”

Wilson frowned at him. “House, what are you going to do?”

“Just gonna visit my patient. Make sure he's okay. You know, the usual. Byeee!” he chirped.

Behind him, Wilson sighed, but the door closed with no signs of him following.

 

* * *

 

When House arrived in Murdock's room again, the bed was empty, and the IV pole was gone. He frowned, until he realized the door to the washroom was closed. There was no sign of Nelson though, and House considered what that meant for a moment, until the bathroom door opened and Murdock appeared. Alone. House tried not to be disappointed. House stayed still as Murdock shuffled across the room, pushing his IV pole with him.

He paused, about halfway across the room.

“I know you're there,” he said, resuming his shuffle.

“Wow, you're so smart.”

Murdock groaned. “You again.”

“I thought you said you knew I was here?” House retorted, watching Murdock feel around for the bed before climbing back in. His white cane was folded up on the bedside table next to a pair of sunglasses.

“I knew someone was here. I didn't know it was you.”

“Where'd your pal go?” House asked, changing the subject.

“Foggy?”

House smirked. Still a ridiculous name.

“He went to get something to eat. I offered him my dinner, but I don't think it appealed to him.”

Murdock gestured to a discarded meal tray. House lifted the lid to see meat loaf.

“That's because it's universally unappealing,” House told him. “I've been told that it's supposed to be meatloaf, and you wouldn't be able to tell, but it sure as hell doesn't look like it.”

“Doesn't smell like it either,” Murdock admitted, shifting in the bed, wincing as his movement pulled on the IV tubing. House took pity on him and adjusted the pole so it was closer to the bed.

House pulled the chair closer with his cane and sat in it. “So I checked your records. Blinded when you were nine while saving some old guy sounds like god just hates you.”

Murdock's lips thinned.

“Oh, you're a believer then? I'll be sure to limit my jabs to topics other than your religion.”

Murdock ignored that. “Why are you here? I'm sure you think this case is a waste of your time.”

House didn't say anything, but made a confused expression, and after a brief hesitation, Murdock continued.

“Foggy told me about you. He looked you up. You're known for only taking the most complicated cases, ones that no one else can solve. And considering how boring my symptoms are, I'm frankly shocked that you're even treating me, let alone spending time with me.”

“Maybe I just think we could be friends.”

Murdock smirked and shook his head. “No, you're interested by me. I just can't figure out why.”

“Maybe it's all those scars. I noticed a few knife wounds. Some places where you were tagged by a bullet. None of those injuries are in your file, so where did you get patched up? Was it your friend? Do you hold impromptu surgery sessions in your bathtub every weekend?”

Murdock smiled weakly. “Foggy hates the sight of blood.”

“I'm guessing you can't say the same?”

Murdock tilted his head slightly. He never looked directly at House, which could easily be faked.

“You think I'm faking,” he surmised.

“Ding ding!” House announced. “We have a winner.”

Murdock scoffed. “People have thought that before, mostly because they don't think that a blind person can be a lawyer. I'd thought that you might be different.”

“What, because I've got a limp?”

Murdock shrugged. “Because you know what it's like to be told you can't do something, and still be stubborn enough to go ahead with it.”

House considered that. Murdock could be making a stab in the dark, literally, or he could know about what House did to try and save his leg. (Try being the operative word, since Stacy quite epically fucked him over on that one.) One of his team members could have mentioned it, or he did tell the story to an entire class of med students, one of whom could have figured it out and posted it online somewhere. It wasn't beyond reason that Murdock's friend could have found it during his research.

“You do seem like a contrary son of a bitch,” House retorted.

“I've been told it's one of my defining features,” Murdock commented. “That and my dashing good looks.”

“Too bad they're wasted on you.”

Murdock smirked. “But no, really, why are you here? You think I'm faking being blind?”

He sat up in the bed, leaned towards House.

“Go ahead. Test me. Shine lights in my eyes, knock me out and scan my brain, whatever. You're not going to find anything besides a lack of response. No light perception,” he added, waving his hand in front of his face. House did note the lack of pupil dilation with the changes in light, but knew it could also be faked.

House waved a hand right back. “Eh, I like to come to my own conclusions.”

Murdock sighed and leaned back in the bed. “Foggy's coming. I suggest you don't mention your little theory to him. He's very protective of me. And he will not hesitate to sue you.”

The door slid open, and there was indeed the man referred to as 'Foggy'.

“Oh,” he said. “Hello Dr House. Has something changed?”

“Nope,” House said cheerily.

Clearly the man was waiting for more, and realized he wasn't going to get any.

“Oh,” he said finally. “Matt, I got you some jello. It's your favourite, red. Not sure what flavour, but hey, all the red flavours are good, am I right?”

Matt looked towards his friend and smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed. Foggy set the jello down on the bedside table and rolled it over his lap.

“Right in the middle of the tray,” he instructed. “Spoon on the right.”

House watched Matt feel around for it, and wondered just how much was for the benefit of those watching.

He took a bite. “Watermelon,” he said, grinning. “The best kind of red.”

“You know it,” Foggy agreed.

“Ugh,” House said. “You're disgustingly domestic. I'm going to leave now before I throw up.”

He shot Murdock a look before limping out. He swore he got one back.

He would have to test Murdock's vision at some other time, since Nelson seemed seriously protective. He would surely take offense with his friend being accused of faking, and despite what Cuddy thought, House didn't actually like being sued.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, new things happening finally. I know this chapter is short, but I wanted to keep the divisions the same as the original.

Matt woke up in the night, and for a second he thought he was still asleep. That was the only reason he could come up with for why it was so quiet. Because it was never quiet. He could be in the middle of a deserted area and it would still be so loud with the sounds of animals, wind, and his own heartbeat.

He couldn't hear his own heartbeat. He couldn't hear anything. For a second, he thought he was dead.

A hand grabbed his, and Matt pulled away before his other senses registered. It was Foggy. Even surrounded with the smells of the hospital, it was still undeniably Foggy's scent. There was the scar on his hand from the time he tried to sew up a hole in his favourite pair of jeans and failed, miserably.

“Foggy?” Matt said, unsure of how loud he was speaking. “I can't hear anything. Foggy, I can't hear.” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice and was certain he failed. “Foggy I can't hear.”

Foggy didn't leave him, just gripped his hand tighter, and soon after there was a flurry of movement in the room. He couldn't hear any of it, but he felt the air currents brushing by him, smelled the different antiseptics. There were gloved hands touching him. Someone put a blood pressure cuff on his arm, another person clipped something to his finger. He couldn't hear any of it and he had no idea what was happening, but as long as Foggy's hand was there he thought he would be okay.

There were hands and hands and touching and touching and they moved his body around like there wasn't a person inside of it, but the whole time Foggy was just there, and Matt reached two fingers to his wrist to feel his pulse and it was the only thing that grounded him.

His head hurt and he didn't know what they were doing, and it was starting to make him panic, even with Foggy's heartbeat underneath his finger tips. He could feel his breathing start to speed up, and the lightheadedness might have been all in his imagination, but it only made his panic worse. Someone covered his nose and mouth and he bucked, lashing out at the hands who were holding him down, touching him everywhere, what were they doing to him, why was Foggy letting this happen?

And then it wasn't.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning briefing actually happened in the morning the next day. House had gotten half a dozen pages as well as one actual call from Cameron, and figured he owed it to such dedication to actually go in. Or he just wanted to yell at them for bothering him, but whatever.

He waltzed into the room and glared at them. “What is so urgent, my little ducklings?” he asked.

“Hyperviscosity syndrome,” Cameron told him. “He lost his hearing around 3am, his sats dropped, and then had a seizure shortly after. Head CT was clear, but repeat hematocrit showed it had increased to 69% despite the fluids he'd been given. We performed phlebotomy and ended up taking a litre of blood over three hours. His hematocrit went down to 48% and his hearing returned. He hasn't had any more seizures and his headache is gone.”

“Well,” House said. “Sounds like you had a fun night.”

Cameron glared at him. “We paged you.”

“Yes you did. I didn't answer though, and it turns out you are all real doctors and not just large children with stethoscopes because the patient survived. What about other labs?”

“Other labs showed a normal serum ferritin and an elevated serum EPO, making it highly unlikely to be polycythemia vera.”

“His SED rate is elevated and inflammatory markers are increased,” Chase added.

“Okay, so what caused the hyperviscosity syndrome? Why are my other tests not complete?”

“We were a little busy saving his life to figure that out,” Cameron replied. “We're going to run the remaining tests today. Head CT was clear though, so we can probably rule out brain tumour.”

“Right,” House said, adding hyperviscosity syndrome to the board. “Differential.”

“Leukemia is still on the table. But you can cross off secondary polycythemia due to dehydration, since that definitely wasn't the cause.”

“Could still be due to a heart defect or kidney problem.”

“Acute intermittent porphyria,” Cameron suggested.

“Has he had abdominal pain?” Chase asked.

“Even if he hasn't, we should test for it,” Foreman chimed in. “It can cause hypertension, tachycardia, headache, seizures, and it's not like he'd notice if he had cortical blindness. AIP can lead to kidney disease, which could be causing the polycythemia.”

“Go wild with the tests, hell if I care,” House declared.

“And there's still blood doping,” Foreman added.

“Right, because the blind lawyer is definitely into some hardcore competitive sports,” House said sarcastically.

Foreman shrugged. “Would explain some of the injuries.”

“Right, because during competitive sports people tend to get shot,” House quipped. “But whatever. Check for any signs of track marks. Run all those other tests you were supposed to run yesterday but didn't and led to our favourite lawyer losing another one of his senses. I mean, 60% is not that great, especially when they're the crappy senses like taste. I mean, come on.”

His team stared at him.

“Go, I mean it.” He shooed them off.

Murdock definitely would have sued had he lost another one of his senses. And while House was always up for the threat of being sued, he didn't actually like when it came true.

House sighed, then got to his feet. He hoped Wilson had some muffins or something.

 

* * *

 

Midmorning there was a flurry of activity in Matt's room. He didn't remember much of what had happened during the night, but he definitely remembered the terror of not being able to hear anything.

Foggy was shooed out and another doctor came in to run tests.

It was Dr Foreman.

“Good morning Mr Murdock,” he greeted.

Matt quirked an eyebrow. “Is it really?” he asked. “And like I've told your other team members, call me Matt.”

He let in enough to be able to tell that one side of Dr Foreman's mouth tilted slightly upwards. “Okay Matt. How are you doing?”

“Apparently I had a seizure during the night, so not so great. And then you guys bled me like you were actual vampires.”

Dr Foreman chuckled. “Well, it's true that it's not often we take a litre of blood from a patient on purpose, but in your case it was necessary.”

Matt shrugged. “I understand that.”

“Unfortunately, I'm here to take more blood. While we treated the cause of your hearing loss and seizure, we still don't know what caused your blood to become thick.”

Matt frowned. “Okay.”

“It was the reason you had a headache and it explained why you lost your hearing. When your blood is that thick, it can clot without any sort of stimulus, and it has difficulty getting through smaller blood vessels.”

Matt nodded. Fingers were checking his arm for a good vein. The left arm held the IV, and the right arm was where they'd taken blood from the night before. Dr Foreman finally settled on one off to the side of his right arm. Matt didn't even know there was a vein there.

Dr Foreman made conversation as he swabbed Matt's arm with some sort of cleaner.

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes,” Matt admitted. “How could you tell?”

Foreman shrugged. “Your heart rate is a bit high. So was your blood pressure when the nurse took it last.”

Matt considered that. The monitor had been silenced at some point, so he didn't hear every beep, but the throbbing in his head was going along at quite a pace, so he didn't doubt it.

“What's hurting?”

“My head. The headache was gone for a while, but it's back now.”

“I understand. I can see about getting you some painkillers. Can you rate your pain on a scale from one to ten?”

Matt shook his head. “It's not that bad.”

“Well, you're about due for Tylenol, which will help with the pain, but if you are still in pain, just tell a nurse, and they can page me.”

Matt nodded.

“Little prick now,” Dr Foreman warned before sliding the needle into Matt's arm.

Matt hid his smirk at the thought of the comment Foggy would make if he was there instead of in search of a decent cup of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyperviscosity syndrome- symptoms that occur when the blood is more viscous, usually bleeding, visual changes, and neurologic symptoms  
> Phlebotomy- they basically bled him like vampires, but for medical reasons  
> Ferritin- indirectly measures iron levels in the body  
> SED rate and inflammatory markers- SED rate measures how fast red blood cells fall, it’s an indicator of inflammatory disease


	7. Chapter 7

“I've got some of his labs back,” Foreman said as an opening line. “The new CBC and electrolytes, along with a tox screen.”

“And pray tell what's happening with our brave little lawyer. It's like the brave little toaster, but even braver because he can't see.”

“Because I'm sure that's what he wants to hear,” Cameron said wryly.

“What about the labs?” Chase asked.

“Well, hematocrit is up a bit since we bled him, but still in the normal range at a solid 50%. Blood smear shows mature red cells, so it's not leukemia. Glucose is a bit elevated for being a fasting level, but it's still okay. His potassium is on the low side, but still normal, and so are his other electrolytes. No sign of anything on the tox screen.”

“Not everything can be tested for,” Chase replied.

“Also his heart rate and blood pressure are still high. Borderline, but high. I think we should do an ECG and echo to check for cardiac abnormalities.”

“Chase can do it,” House ordered. “And get a set of expanded electrolytes and the tox screens that they use for rock stars. Let's see if our little lawyer is taking something a bit further off the books.”

“Have we checked him for needle marks?” Cameron asked.

“Well I haven't,” House retorted. “Or is this just an excuse to get him naked so you can talk about whoever's hurting him.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, because he could be injecting hormones, EPO, all sorts of things that could be causing his symptoms. Who knows why, but he could.”

House shrugged. “Sure, you go check him for needle marks while the rest of the labs are going.”

 

Foreman left, hopefully to get more blood, and Cameron went to examine every inch of Matthew Murdock's body for needle marks and talk about _feelings_. Chase left, probably to just get out of House's way, which he was cool with, and he leaned back in his chair, lifting his leg to prop it up onto another chair.

 

He tossed his ball up in the air a few times, but it wasn't as rewarding as it usually was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You're looking for what?” Matt asked, trying to wrap his head around it. His head was foggy, and he wasn't sure if it was from the headache or something else.

“Any signs of bites, stings, or rashes. Have you been walking in tall grasses recently?”

“I live in New York. There's not much grass anywhere.”

“Dogs can pick up ticks and transfer them to humans. Do you have a guide dog?”

“No, but Foggy keeps pestering me about it. He thinks I get hurt too much.”

“I'd have to agree,” Dr Cameron said, her fingers ghosting over a cut that wasn't quite healed yet.

Matt winced.

“Sorry,” she said. “You might not have noticed it...”

“Because I can't see it?” Matt finished. “It's okay if you say it.”

She nodded, then winced and corrected herself. “Yes.”

“Could one of those explain what I have?” he asked.

“It could explain some of your symptoms,” she lied.

Matt frowned. What was she not telling him? If she was looking for signs of a rash or insect bite, didn't she think he would have noticed one? Maybe not seen it, but certainly felt it. Unless she was looking for something else entirely.

“Are you looking for anything else?” he prodded.

Dr Cameron didn't answer for a minute, fingers tracing over his side. “Do you do any drugs?” she asked finally.

“What? No. I drink sometimes, but that's it. I don't even smoke. It's disgusting.”

She hummed. “Can you roll onto your side for me?”

Matt obeyed.

“Why would you think I was taking drugs?”

“Certain drugs can cause the symptoms you have. We just want to make sure we have all the information. And if I don't ask, Dr House will. You know he's a lot less pleasant to speak to.”

Matt snorted.

She continued her careful search over every inch of his skin.

“So I know you're not big on talking about it, but is there someone hurting you? There are a lot of injuries here Matt.”

He appreciated her using his name, but at the same time loathed the conversation.

“No one is hurting me,” he told her. “And I know you don't believe that, but it's true. I just... I get into a lot of fights.”

“And lose, I'm guessing?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. Rarely. “New York City isn't exactly a safe place.” Especially for guys fighting crime in a costume.

“Have you reported any of it?”

“It's hard to,” he deflected. “I can't identify them.”

“There needs to be justice,” she insisted.

“There is,” he told her. “There is.”

 

She did the rest of her search quietly, with only the ache in Matt's head to keep him company.

“I don't see any signs of a rash or bite,” she told him, replacing his gown and helping him roll back over.

“But you weren't expecting to find one, were you,” he said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

“No,” she admitted.

“So what do you think it is?”

“We're still looking at a number of options,” she told him.

“Which are?”

She didn't say anything.

“I have a right to know what I'm being treated for, and how,” he pointed out.

“Well,” she began. “We're looking at a number of differential diagnoses, including different causes of polycythemia, including heart conditions, kidney failure, drugs, and cancers. But you shouldn't worry about that until we come to a more definitive-”

Matt blinked. “Cancer?” he repeated.

“It's unlikely, but cancer can cause your symptoms.”

“Am I going to die?”

Matt definitely wasn't panicking. Nope. No panic. He was just... stressed out. That was why his chest felt tight and his breathing sped up and his mind started racing through absolute worst case scenarios. 

She didn't answer right away, and Matt was sure that was it.

“Oh my god I'm going to die, aren't I?”

“We're doing everything we can to help you,” she told him firmly.

Something beeped, and Matt vaguely recognized that he was hyperventilating. He vaguely remembered the same thing happening when he woke up and couldn't hear.

“Matt, I need you to take slow deep breaths for me.”

Matt shook his head. He was going to die from something as stupid as confused cells when he should have died so many times over from way cooler things, like chemical spills or explosions or fighting ninjas.

“Matt, if you don't calm down and breathe with me, you are going to pass out. Come on. I know you can do this.”

Matt considered that briefly. He really didn't want to pass out. He never liked when that happened.

So he listened to Dr Cameron coach him through breathing in for three seconds, holding it, and breathing out for three seconds.

 

When the beeping stopped, and she was satisfied with his level of composure, Matt tried to collect himself.

“Where's Foggy?” he asked. Matt knew he'd been sent out for the exam, since she was checking every single inch of him, but he wanted to know if he was nearby and could come back in.

“He's in a waiting room nearby. I can get him if-”

“No,” Matt cut her off. “He doesn't need to be in here. There's nothing he can do for me in here.”

“Matt, if you're worried about the risk to him, you don't need to be. You are not contagious. None of the diagnoses we're considering are contagious at all. It's fine for him to be in here with you.”

Matt shook his head.

 

There was a beeping. Her pager perhaps?

She checked something. “I have to go. We have results of some of your labs. I'll come back and let you know what we find out.”

She hesitated at the door. “Would you like me to send your friend back in?”

Matt shook his head. “I think I'm going to rest,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said.

Matt rolled onto his side, away from the door, and closed his eyes. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, but he would try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't think there's any new medical terminology this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

House was waiting in his office for Cameron to come back from seeing the patient. Foreman and Chase were in the other room, and came over when she arrived.

“How's the patient?” Foreman asked her.

“No sign of needle marks, or rashes of any kind, but he had a bit of a panic attack when I mentioned we were considering cancer as a diagnosis.”

“Why would you tell him that?” Chase asked.

“Because he asked. He's a lawyer. He knows his rights. What was I supposed to do, lie?”

“Yes,” House told her. “Duh.”

“Expanded electrolytes are back, along with the other labs,” Foreman announced. “BUN is increased, SED rate is still elevated, potassium still on the low end, glucose still on the high end, and no sign of any kind of drugs.”

“That is literally no new information compared to this morning. Why are you all here?” House glared at them.

None of them had an answer and he rolled his eyes at them. “Shoo,” he gestured.

Cameron shifted uncomfortably before speaking. “His friend is getting concerned. Are you sure we shouldn't make him leave? Some of the nurses are concerned that he's the one hurting Matt.”

House looked at Cameron. “Hey, if he stays to the point where he has to eat cafeteria food, the guy's dedicated. I say let him be.”

“In cases of domestic abuse, it's most likely-”

House cut her off. “They're not like that.”

Foreman raised an eyebrow. “Why? Because they said so?”

“Because I said so,” House retorted. “Now go to New York and check his apartment.”

“Why?”

“Because everybody lies. So he's probably lying about drugs. Meaning you should search his apartment. Go.” He made shooing motions until Foreman left the room.

“Now you two, go make yourselves useful. Chase, echo and ECG. Cameron, bat your lashes at the lab techs and see if they can hurry things along.”

House ignored the eye roll.

 

* * *

 

Not too long after, Dr Cameron left, Dr Chase came back to do an echocardiogram.

“Do you have any news?” Matt asked.

“Your blood tests still look pretty good, although not completely normal. But right now I'm going to look at your heart to see if there could be any abnormalities that could be causing your problems,” Dr Chase explained. “If a heart condition results in your heart being unable to pump enough oxygenated blood to your body, you can compensate by producing more red blood cells to carry oxygen. But it's only helpful to a certain point, and after that the thick blood just starts causing problems. So I'm going to look at your heart for any defects and afterwards I'm going to do a 12 lead ECG to check for electrical abnormalities.”

Matt would hear if there was, and he didn't, but he certainly couldn't share that.

He hummed and tilted his head to the other side, resting it on the cool portion of the pillow.

Matt wondered if the man would be like Dr Foreman, clinical and detached, or like Dr Cameron, compassionate and concerned.

He turned out to be somewhere in between.

Dr Chase was focused while doing the test, explaining to Matt about the gel on his chest, apologizing for the chill of it. But afterwards, when he was cleaning up and checking... well, Matt didn't really know what he was checking, medical thing probably, he made light conversation.

“Do you like being a lawyer?” he asked. Matt liked his accent.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I like helping people. I was always sort of attracted to justice and fairness.”

“Law isn't always about that,” Dr Chase pointed out.

Matt sighed. “I know. But I can try.”

Dr Chase hummed. “So, what kind of lawyer are you?”

“Defense attorney. My partner and I have our own practice. It's small, but it's ours, which means we get to pick our cases. That's the theory anyway, because right now we take whatever we can get.”

“Have you ever defended someone you knew was guilty?”

Matt remembered John Healy, the shark in a skin suit, and how they were paid so much money to make sure he never went to prison.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But he still got what he deserved.”

Dr Chase nodded, even though Matt couldn't see it.

“I didn't see anything wrong on the echo, so you probably don't have a heart defect. I'm still doing to do the ECG, since it can show signs of other things that could be wrong, and we're going to continue running tests. How are you feeling?” he asked, sticking electrodes to Matt's chest.

“My head still hurts,” Matt admitted. And he felt dazed, although that could have been the lack of sleep.

“Dr Foreman made a note that you could have some stronger painkillers if you wanted. You ready to try them?”

Matt shook his head. “I'm still doing okay. Maybe for sleeping, if it doesn't improve.”

“Well that is up to you. If you change your mind, let one of us know. How's your appetite?”

Matt just winced.

“That bad huh? I'm sure you're not that hungry, but it is good to eat something. Have you tried the pudding? I can confirm it is edible.”

Matt attempted a smile. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“I'll be back in a bit to see what the ECG shows us, but until then, you try and get some rest, alright?”

Matt nodded, and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep. He wondered where Foggy had gotten to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical notes:
> 
> BUN- blood urea nitrogen, a blood test used to measure kidney and liver function


	9. Chapter 9

Chase had finished with the cardiac echo, which showed nothing, and the ECG, which only showed non-specific ST changes and a short PR interval, neither of which narrowed down the diagnosis at all. Foreman had left for the drive to New York City. Traffic was probably going to be terrible, and with the time he'd take to search, House didn't expect him back for at least three hours.

Three hours was just long enough for him to perform an eye exam on Murdock and prove that he wasn't actually blind.

House was looking forward to it.

His friend was out of the room, sent off on some wild goose chase for paperwork that House had made up. House watched him for a minute, outside the glass. His vitals were still elevated, but not dangerously so.

He let himself in the room, armed with a penlight and an air puff tonometer.

Murdock tilted his head towards the door as House entered.

“House,” he greeted. He paused. “I'm guessing the paperwork Foggy went to find isn't going to be found?”

“You'd be right,” House replied cheerily.

“Have you come to accuse me of faking my blindness? Again.”

“Yep.” He brandished his tools.

“You know if you're showing me things, I can't see them,” Murdock said dryly.

“Of course you can't,” House told him, limping around the bed to survey him. Murdock's head followed him around.

“You know I can hear you limping, right? I can hear you move, hear your cane. There's nothing special about that.”

“I know,” House agreed.

Murdock gave up on following his voice around the room and closed his eyes.

House took a look at the monitor. Blood pressure high, resps normal, sats normal, pulse high.

House pulled a chair close and sat down, examining Murdock closely. “Look at me Murdock,” he ordered.

The guy rolled his eyes, but turned his head to face House. “Matt,” he corrected.

“Right,” House agreed. He didn't give the man any warning before shining the penlight in his eyes.

He didn't wince, and the pupils didn't react at all.

House put the penlight down.

“Keep your eyes open,” he ordered, and shot a puff of air into Matt's left eye.

He blinked reflexively.

House checked the result. Normal. He repeated the same thing with the right eye. Also normal.

“Are you satisfied?” he asked. “I'm assuming you already shone the penlight in my eye.”

“What, you couldn't tell?”

Murdock sighed before responding.

“No light perception,” he said again, somewhat exasperated. “Nothing. I can't see.”

“We'll see about that,” House retorted. He had plans for a functional MRI, to see if Murdock's brain was utilizing the occipital lobe, and if so, for what.

His phone rang, and he checked the caller ID before answering it.

“Tell me you found something good.”

“Oh yeah. You're going to love this. I'm almost back.”

House hung up and grinned.

“If you've got anything to tell me, now would be the time, cause Foreman found something great at your place.”

Matt paled a few shades and his heartbeat jumped up even further, but he refused to comment.

 

* * *

 

The guy had a pretty nice place despite it being so many flights up. The billboard was a drawback, but Foreman assumed that being blind, Matt had no issue with it. His friends were probably more bothered by it than he was, and he assumed it came with a price cut.

It was still pretty small, although modest for a New York City apartment. Bedroom, bathroom, combined kitchen and living, with a small entrance and a storage room. Foreman also noted the roof access with a small closet underneath the steps.

There weren't any decorations, no TV, minimal books, and the ones that he did have were in braille. Foreman had no doubt the man was actually blind, despite House's reservations.

Foreman checked through Matt's drawers. Clothes. Just clothes. The laundry basket was filled with dirty clothes, some covered in blood. Foreman bagged some of them for evidence, mostly just to ask Matt why he had so many clothes covered in blood. Probably from the scars and cuts he had all over his body, but it was still better to check.

The kitchen cupboards were pretty bare, but what was in them was labelled with braille. The fridge only held necessities and condiments. Foreman would bet Matt had some nutritional deficiencies even before he got sick. There were no signs of drugs anywhere, or any sort of related things like needles. Of course, the locked cupboard under the stairs was probably the best bet for where they'd be, if he had any.

The lock didn't actually pose much of a problem to him. He regretted it, but he had a lot of experience with picking locks.

Inside was a chest, which contained boxing gear. Old, by the looks of it. Perhaps it belonged to Matt's father.

It was underneath it that was the real surprise.

Foreman held it up in the light to look at it.

“Oh boy,” he muttered. “House is going to love this.”


	10. Chapter 10

House was absolutely _gleeful._

“You're the guy running around part of New York wearing a red costume with horns?”

“Do I really need to point out you were there illegally?” Matt asked, sounding angry.

“We will sue your asses off,” Foggy added.

House waved a hand. “Doctor patient confidentiality. You'll be fine. But seriously, it explains all the scars. It doesn't explain why you pretend to be blind though.”

Matt veritably hissed. “I told you, repeatedly, I am blind.”

“I can confirm that,” Foggy chimed in.

House rolled his eyes. “Oh, well as long as _you_ say it's true...”

Matt glared in House's direction. “Check again if you want. They still don't respond to light.”

“Hardly definitive.”

Matt sighed. “There is no reason for me to pretend to be blind,” he said through gritted teeth. “It offers no advantage in any way, and even if you can think of some slight bonus, it couldn't possibly outweigh everything else I have to put up with.”

“Not everyone is driven by logic,” House pointed out.

Matt rolled his eyes, and they ended up pointing somewhere towards the ceiling.

“Okay,” House decided. “Let's assume for a minute that you are blind. Say I believe you. How do you do... whatever it is that you do, because I'm not sure what it is.”

“It's like echolocation,” Matt told him. “I don't have sight, but I can sense where objects are in space by the air currents, the sounds bouncing off of them, whatever. I know that you're sitting there, Foggy is over there, and there's a wall there,” he continued, pointing to each thing in turn.

“The wall is actually made of glass,” Foggy pointed out.

Matt tilted his head. “Is it?”

“Yep.”

“Better not be doing anything naughty in here then,” House warned, wagging a finger in Murdock's direction.

Matt attempted a smile, but it was more of a snarl. “My balance, coordination, proprioception, all enhanced beyond what other people have, or at least anyone that I've met.”

“So what, you're good at the balance beam?” House asked. It sounded almost realistic, but he still wasn't buying it.

“Probably. I've never been on a real balance beam. I didn't exactly grow up in a neighbourhood with a gymnastic club.”

He still sounded pissed off, but his words were coming more easily, like he'd been waiting to talk about it. House wondered just how much of this his friend was hearing for the first time, and how much of it he knew.

“I was trained for a while after my dad died. My trainer, he was blind too, and taught me how to use my other senses to my advantage.”

“Wow, this isn't like a movie at all,” House commented. “Was there a fight montage scene?”

“You would have like him I think,” Matt continued. “He was a dick.”

“Sounds just like my kind of person.”

“After he left, I tried to stop. But I heard things that I couldn't ignore. And so one night, when the authorities failed to do anything, I went out and beat a man who sexually assaulted his young daughter. I let the devil out. My father was the same, a boxer, and he'd beat men twice his size. My grandmother knew that there was something inside us, something that we couldn't control, but we could channel. And I chose to channel it towards beating up assholes like that.”

House eyed his friend, who looked uneasy, but like he'd heard it before.

“After that, I kept going. I knew it wasn't my place to dispense justice, but I knew the law was failing the people it was supposed to protect. I helped a lot of people. I struggled with it, I still do, but I know that I am helping.”

“What a beautiful speech,” House told him. “I know you claim you can't see the tears in my eyes, but I assure you, they're there.”

“You're lying,” Matt growled. “And if you tell anyone about this-”

The monitor beeped as the blood pressure cuff finished the measurement. It was higher, even higher than it had been before. So was his pulse.

“They won't,” Foggy said firmly.

“We won't,” House echoed.

Matt narrowed his eyes. “I can't let that happen,” he warned.

Foreman let himself into the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “His vitals are all over the place.”

Matt visibly startled in the bed, the heart monitor registering the spike.

His eyes narrowed. “This is your fault. You were the one in my house.”

“Yeah, but don't worry. He picked the lock, so it isn't technically breaking in, because nothing was broken.”

Foreman stared at House. “Really?” he hissed.

Even Foggy looked angry, and Matt... well, apparently that was the last straw for him.

In one swift movement, Matt tore off the monitoring equipment, pulled out his IV, and managed to get out of bed, brandishing the IV pole in front of him as a weapon.

House was actually kind of impressed.

Foreman backed up immediately.

“Code white!” he yelled into the hall. “Need ativan in here!”

House scoffed. “What, the guy's just letting off some steam!”

“With his blood pressure that high he's going to stroke out,” Foreman told him, referencing the last number that had been on the monitor. Sure, it was high, but House would argue it wasn't quite to stroke levels yet.

Matt's eyes were darting all around the room, but seeing nothing. It was even more unnerving to know the man was blind (supposedly) and brandishing a weapon.

“Jesus Matt, what are you doing?” Foggy yelled. Matt didn't seem to hear his friend.

Foreman held his hands up in a placating gesture, despite believing Matt couldn't see it. House rolled his eyes.

“Hey, Matt, it's okay. I understand you might be angry, but there's no need to hurt anyone. Can you set that down?”

Matt didn't even seem to hear him, just kept glancing around the room like something would reveal itself to him.

“Matt,” Foggy started, taking a step closer. “Buddy-”

Matt actually growled, spinning on his heel to face his friend.

“Whoa,” Foggy said, holding his hands up. “It's me. Your friend. Foggy. Remember me? How about you set down the medical equipment and hop back into bed. Everything is fine. You know I'm not lying. Listen.”

House had no clue what he was going on about, but it made Matt turn his back and distracted him long enough to give the nurses time to jump in with a needle and sedate him.

Matt stumbled, the shock of the hands on him more disorienting than the drug could be. He dropped the IV pole and strong hands led him back to bed, held him down for the long minutes it took for the sedative to take hold.

House watched Foggy as he watched his friend slowly fall unconscious, all of his muscles becoming lax.

Foreman moved in to replace the monitoring equipment. One of the nurses held gauze to the place where his IV had been.

“Well, this was fun,” House declared. “I'll meet you back in the conference room in half an hour. Or three. I may nap first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical terminology:  
> Code white- can vary between hospitals, but is usually the one that refers to a violent patient  
> Ativan- a sedative drug


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall know you are allowed to like, poke me and ask when the next chapter is coming because I did forget to post it.

Awareness returned to Matt slowly. The first thing he noticed was the restraints around his wrists. He tugged experimentally. There was no give.

His head was killing him, and the last thing he remembered was the conversation about... Oh. Dr Foreman had found his suit while searching his home, which was very illegal and highly unethical, and Dr House had confronted him about it. Things after that were a bit blurry.

He remembered the emotions though. Rage. Why was he so angry? Was it because Dr House found out that he was Daredevil? That shouldn't have made him so upset that he needed to be restrained. Did the anger induce a seizure? Was that what made his head hurt so much? He groaned.

“Matty?”

Matt turned his head, which thankfully didn't increase the pain, but also didn't make it better. “Foggy?” He felt weird, even weirder than he had in the past couple of days. Had they drugged him?

“Yeah.”

Matt frowned. “What happened?”

Foggy's heart picked up a bit, which wasn't a good sign. “You don't remember?”

“No,” Matt whispered, and the admission pained him a little.

“Oh. Well, Dr House was in here talking to us. Dr Foreman had returned from you apartment a little bit before that, and while he didn't find anything related to your illness...”

“The Daredevil suit. I remember that part.”

“Yeah. I guess that made you angry, because you started getting upset. Your blood pressure was high, which made Dr Foreman come in, and you were pissed at him because he was the one who was in your apartment to begin with. You...”

“What?” Matt asked. He dreaded the answer.

“You freaked out. You jumped out of bed, started accusing him of planning to tell everyone about you. You used the IV stand as a sort of weapon.”

“Oh my god,” Matt whispered. “Did I...”

“No one was hurt,” Foggy added quickly. “Except you, I guess. They had to sedate you. That was last night. You've been asleep since then.”

Matt closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to come out.

“I remember being _so angry._ And I don't know why I was so angry. I don't remember doing that, and I hate that I don't remember. Am I dangerous?” _Was she right about me?_ He didn't say out loud.

“You're sick,” Foggy said firmly, holding one of Matt's restrained hands. “You obviously weren't thinking clearly.”

_ What if I was? What if the things that happen when we can't stop ourselves are who we are all along? What if we're just fooling ourselves the rest of the time? _

The tears slipped out that time, for real, and he knew Foggy saw them because his heart picked up again.

“Oh buddy, it's okay. Are you in pain? The headache worse again?”

Matt nodded, not opening his eyes.

“I remember something about Dr Foreman leaving a drug order in case you needed it. I'll just get one of the nurses in here, okay?”

Matt didn't say anything as Foggy pushed the call button. He hated the way drugs made him feel, were making him feel at that moment, since he'd obviously been sedated and was blaming that for his current situation, but was willing to give in this once, just for a rest. He was tired. He hurt. He wanted to stop feeling so terrible.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> diagnosis time friends! explanations of some of the more technical terms at the end

They reconvened the next morning, Murdock having been sedated through the night and stable.

“So what do we have besides a very angry little lawyer. God, he was like a chihuahua, wasn't he?”

Foreman glared at him and Cameron frowned disapprovingly. House only shrugged.

Chase was the only one focused on the differential. “None of his symptoms have gone away. There's clearly an underlying cause of the polycythemia because it keeps reoccurring.”

House rolled his eyes. “Duh. What we're trying to figure out is the...” he trailed off as an idea occurred to him. “Have we checked his blood or urine for catecholamines?”

“Um, no, why?” Chase asked.

House grinned widely. The rest of the team waited for him to say something.

“Did you give him any drugs?” House asked.

Foreman looked at him. “Yeah, I wrote a standing order for fentanyl for his headache. He said he'd take it if the pain got worse or if he had trouble sleeping.”

All three of their pagers went off.

“That would be him having a hypertensive crisis,” House said helpfully. “He has a pheochromocytoma. Once he's no longer in danger of stroking out, send him for a CT of his abdomen. And schedule surgery,” he called after them as they ran out.

He gave them ten minutes or so before he went down to the room to see how things were going.

 

* * *

 

By the time he got there, Matt's blood pressure was measuring 178/124. Still not good, but likely lower than it had been when they were paged. He was satting low, maybe due to some pulmonary edema induced by the hypertensive crisis.

Foreman noticed him enter. “BP was 208 over 136. We've got him on a nitroprusside drip and we're going to lower it slowly until it's back in normal range. We're going to start him on alpha blockers, then beta blockers. There shouldn't be any lasting damage.”

Matt was lying on his side, eyes half open, an oxygen mask on his face. He'd vomited recently and didn't seem completely conscious.

“Add phentolamine.” House waved a hand in front of Matt's face.

“What the hell man,” Foggy complained. “He almost dies and you're still trying to prove he's not blind?”

“Just checking for a response,” House replied. “And he's not dying.”

Matt made a vague groan.

“Will someone explain what's going on?” Foggy asked desperately.

“Matt has a tumour in his adrenal gland that releases extra hormones, including adrenaline. When the tumour is stimulated, it can increase his blood pressure and cause other symptoms like the outburst we saw earlier,” Cameron explained. “It can also stimulate the production of extra red blood cells, which led to his other symptoms.”

Foggy nodded in understanding.

“Once the alpha blockade is initiated, his BP will tank, so make sure you're prepared for that,” House instructed.

He grabbed the penlight from Chase's pocket and leaned over Matt, pulling one of his eyes open to shine it in.

“Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you, he's blind, that's not going to do anything,” Foggy bellowed.

“That's not what I'm checking for. Cameron, fundoscope,” he ordered.

Cameron passed him the tool and he examined Matt's eye.

“Papilledema. Characteristic of a hypertensive emergency. He's probably had visual symptoms for weeks, months, maybe even years that he hasn't noticed because he's blind. Congrats, I believe you,” he told Matt. He was certain that the man smirked back at him, despite his decreased level of consciousness. “Let me know when he's lucid again. I can't wait to tell him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catecholamines- a group of hormones and neurotransmitters that includes epinephrine, norepinephrine, and dopamine
> 
> Fentanyl- an opioid drug used for pain, but can also induce a hypertensive crisis in patients with a pheochromocytoma
> 
> Hypertensive crisis- a severe increase in blood pressure that can lead to organ damage, most commonly a stroke, pulmonary edema, heart failure, vision changes, and kidney failure


	13. Chapter 13

Matt was overwhelmed when he woke up. There were a couple reasons for that. Mostly because he didn't remember falling asleep, or anything that might have preceded falling asleep. He'd been moved, possibly to intensive care, because he heard fewer patients and more machines. His mouth tasted of vomit, but he couldn't remember throwing up. There was an oxygen mask on his face and an IV pump next to him that he could hear dosing out tiny amounts of something.

“Murdock,” a voice demanded.

Matt opened his eyes. It took him a minute to remember that it wouldn't help.

(It had been ages since he'd woken up and forgotten he was blind, but he blamed the drugs for that.)

“Yeah, that's right, look at me.”

Matt knew the voice, but couldn't match it to a name. He frowned.

“I've told you before, he's still blind,” Foggy said, somewhere off to Matt's left, exasperated.

“And I've told you I _believe_ that,” the first voice said again.

“House,” a different voice said. Female. Right. Dr House was a dick who previously didn't think Matt was blind. What made him change his mind? Maybe it was because he knew Matt was Daredevil.

“How did you know I was awake?” Matt mumbled.

“Does that really matter?” Dr House retorted. And Matt supposed it didn't, not in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason it was all his mind could latch onto at the moment.

He went to push away the oxygen mask on his face, but found himself in restraints for the second time that day. These ones were looser, but still served their purpose.

“Leave that on,” House ordered. “You have some fluid in your lungs from the hypertensive episode.”

“Matt,” the female voice said. Dr Cameron. That's who she was. Things were starting to make sense again. “We figured out what was causing all of your symptoms.”

“You have a pheochromocytoma,” House told him. “Which is basically a fancy word for having a tiny tumour that makes you angry. When you were stressed, the tumour secreted epinephrine, dopamine, norepinephrine. I don't know if you know your science very much, but these are hormones commonly associated with the fight or flight response. So basically your body was getting ready to fight your way out of a situation, even if that situation happened to be a reaction to the temperature changing or to some medication you took. What can I say, your body isn't that smart. Hell, it might not have been set off by anything. But there you are, your body filled with hormones that should really only be around when you're running for your life, and you decide it must be the devil inside you. You Catholics are all the same,” he scoffed.

Matt attempted to glare at him, but wasn't sure if his face responded correctly.

“I'm guessing it can be fixed,” Foggy said.

“Surgery,” Dr Cameron told him. “Most of the tumours are benign, and as long as the whole thing is removed, you should be cured. We have you scheduled for a CT scan in the morning so we can locate the tumour, and the surgery is scheduled for later in the week. Your symptoms are being controlled with medication for now, but once the tumour is gone, you shouldn't need the medication anymore. Your symptoms will go away on their own.”

Matt hadn't even considered that the tumour could be cancerous. He was just too stuck on the fact that Dr House pointed out that the tumour was the reason he was angry. What if it was the reason he was Daredevil? What if there was no higher calling like Father Lantom told him, what if there was no angel or devil inside of him, what if it was only a tumour all along?

Matt squeezed his eyes shut and wanted to pray, but he didn't know what for.

Foggy's hand slipped into his, and he gave a little squeeze to let his friend know he was okay.

He probably would be.

* * *

 

“Right there,” House said, pointing to the tiny speck on the CT scan.

Wilson nodded. “I agree. I'd send it for pathology, but you're right in assuming that it's likely benign. Have you done genetic tests?”

“What for?” Foreman asked.

“Some of these can be caused by genetic mutations. His parents could have them and not even know, brothers, sisters, any other relatives.”

“Only child, both parents deceased,” House said.

His team looked at him strangely.

“What?” he retorted. “I can know things about the patient too.”

“Was he hypertensive when he came in? Normotensive patients are more likely to have familial pheochromocytoma.”

“Mildly elevated BP. We attributed it to the stress until he almost stroked out,” Cameron told him.

“Oopsie,” House added.

“I'll book the surgery,” Chase said.

* * *

 

They waited for his blood pressure to be at normal levels for 24 hours before performing the surgery. The pumped him full of fluids and salt so that his blood pressure wouldn't drop dangerously low after the tumour was removed, and stopped the antihypertensives the morning of surgery. After that, it was a relatively simple matter of removing the tiny tumour laparoscopically.

The scars wouldn't even be noticeable next to some of the others.


	14. Chapter 14

Matt had to admit, surgery and stitches were far preferable when done in a real hospital with proper medication. He could barely feel the stretch of the incisions through the pleasant haze of drugs, which was certainly preferable to the time he woke up in his apartment to an angry Foggy. The drugs came with a downside though, because he always had a harder time controlling his senses when he was on painkillers. Considering he was a hospital, he wanted to correct that as soon as possible, so as to not hear all the suffering around him.

“Hey Matt. How are you feeling?”

Dr Cameron.

“Fuzzy.”

“Well, you did just have surgery. You have to give yourself some time for the drugs to get out of your system.”

He hummed.

“The tumour was taken out and has been sent for testing, but it likely isn't malignant. You rest here for a bit longer and then we'll get you back to your room. Foggy has been waiting for you.”

Ah yes, how could he forget Foggy, his best avocado. Matt would have giggled if he hadn't been so sure it would hurt. Instead he just drifted, listening to some of the nurses on their lunch break a floor down gossiping about the new med students.

He might have drifted off completely, because he was in a different spot when he opened his eyes next. Oh, with Foggy.

Matt smiled.

“Wow, you are on the good stuff, aren't you?”

“Avocado,” Matt agreed.

Foggy laughed.

“Thirsty,” Matt commented.

“That I can fix,” Foggy told him, pouring water into a cup. “Open up,” he said. “There's an incoming straw.”

That was hilarious to Matt for some reason, but he remembered that his insides had just been exposed to the light of an operating theatre and resisted laughing.

After drinking half of the tiny cup, Matt settled into the scratchy pillows. “When can we go home?” he asked hopefully.

Foggy scoffed. “You literally just had surgery. We're not leaving anytime soon. You just rest and when you're less loopy, you can tell me what the nurses are gossiping about.”

“Us,” Matt told him seriously, before beaming.

“Oh my god you are completely out of it,” Foggy said, shaking his head.

Dr Foreman and Dr Chase chose that time to stop by and check on him.

“How are you recovering?”

“He is very high,” Foggy told them.

“Well, he did just have surgery. We'll allow it,” Dr Chase said. Matt bet he was smiling.

“Dr House is going to want to come see you,” Dr Foreman said. “I'm going to page him now, and he'll probably be here shortly to see how you're doing.”

“And interrogate me?” Matt asked. “I feel like it's not fair if I'm drugged. He should be drugged too.”

Dr Chase coughed suddenly, and Dr Foreman's heart did a funny thing. Matt was worried about him. He hoped he wasn't sick.

He drifted for a moment on that thought and when he tuned back in Dr Cameron had arrived.

“Hi,” he told her. The next thought he had was immediately gripping and he had to know the answer to it. “How uncommon is this... thing?” he asked, waving a hand around. He couldn't remember the name of what he had.

“A pheochromocytoma? Quite rare.”

“So if I was in New York, I might not have been diagnosed?” Matt asked.

Dr Foreman was the one who spoke first. “Maybe not.”

“I would have died in New York,” Matt extrapolated.

Foggy's heart flip flopped, but not really, because it was held in by muscles and bones and couldn't actually do a sommersault in his body. It just sounded like it.

“I'm sure you wouldn't have-”

“Actually,” House interrupted, standing in the doorway. “The hypertensive crisis you had could have killed you, especially if you'd been given those drugs outside of a clinic setting.”

“Drugs nearly killed me?” Matt asked, frowning.

Foggy scoffed. “Great. Physical evidence of your martyr complex working in your favour.”

“In New York they might not have known what was wrong with me?” Matt clarified.

“Probably not,” Dr Chase admitted.

Matt considered that. For all that House was a dick, he'd managed to successfully diagnose Matt and keep him from dying.

The ball that landed in his lap just after he had that thought pushed House back towards the 'dick' end of the spectrum though.


	15. Chapter 15

House wasn't really sure what he expected when he threw the ball at Murdock less than two hours post op. Something more exciting, he supposed.

The ball bounced into Matt's lap, where he seemed surprised to find it, before grabbing it and turning it over in his hands.

House swore Matt was glaring at him. His gaze was aimed a few feet to the left though, so it wasn't as effective.

“Really?” he asked.

“I oughta sue you,” Nelson grumbled, but House could tell he didn't mean it. He was pissed though.

“Just checking,” House shrugged. “You three, out. He's not dead yet, so he probably won't be in the next five minutes. And believe me, if he crashes, you'll be the first people I call.”

All three of them filed out.

Matt was still glaring sort of in House's direction.

“I was kind of hoping we could play some catch,” he remarked.

Matt didn't look amused. “I don't think this is the best time for games, do you?”

House shrugged. “I've been told I don't have a very good sense of those things. Why didn't you catch it? I assume you could. I've seen footage of you. You're very good.”

There's a hint of a smile on Matt's face, like he's proud to hear House say that, but it disappeared just as soon as it arrived.

“Before you got here I called Foggy 'avocado' and couldn't remember the reason I'd had surgery. You really expected me to catch that, even if I could see?”

House considered that. “Maybe not my best plan. But to be fair, pheochromocytoma is a really stupid name.”

Matt nodded in agreement. “So many letters.” He tilted his head and considered for a second. “You believe I'm blind now, don't you? You... looked at my eyes and then you believed me. Why?”

“Yeah, I'd like to know that too,” Nelson added.

“Because if you weren't blind, you would have noticed vision changes that would have been a diagnostic clue. And I know I say that everyone lies, but no one completely omits a symptom like that.” He shrugged. “You still do have superpowers though, which means your blindness is basically balanced out. That's just how the universe works.”

Matt frowned. “You think it's a fair trade? I don't know what my best friend looks like. I can't go grocery shopping without someone to help or an app on my phone. I can't just watch a movie or browse the internet. I haven't seen my own face since I was nine years old. And you think it's balanced? I can fight because I was trained, I know how and where to hit someone to make them hurt. I can hear where people are when they move, but I also hear every single person in this ward and how much they are hurting. So maybe I got something in exchange for what I lost, but it's by no means _balanced._ ”

House blinked at him. “How much morphine are you on?” he asked, checking the chart. “Wow. I can see why you're a lawyer,” he said. “Or is using 'see' offensive to you?”

Matt just closed his eyes and smiled a bit. “It'll do.”

“Well, considering you're still alive, you're probably going to make it through this.”

“Anyone told you that your bedside manner is amazing?” Matt mumbled.

“Considering I don't even visit most of my patients, I don't hear it that often.”

Matt huffed. “Lucky me?” he asked.

“Something like that,” House told him.

Next to the bed, Nelson cleared his throat. “You think you can let him get some rest now?”

House shrugged, but grabbed his cane and limped out of the room, but not before grabbing his ball out of Matt's lap.

 

* * *

That was day four. Matt slept through much of day five, and by day six was ready to go home.

Foggy flat out refused. Matt asked him why he was so willing to steal an ambulance and smuggle Matt out a week ago, but now was just being mean about it.

“There was that little incident where you nearly died,” Foggy pointed out.

Matt made a face. “Barely,” he countered.

“You nearly had a stroke and died in front of me. You had to have surgery,” Foggy maintained.

“It would have gone away on its own,” Matt replied, more weakly this time.

“Nope,” Foggy retorted, shaking his head. “We are not leaving here until Dr House gives you the okay.”

Matt scowled and crossed his arms and wondered what he'd have to do for House to get him to agree.

“What am I going to tell Claire about this?” he asked, a few minutes later.

“Well,” Foggy said, after a moment's consideration. “You could always try lying to her.”

“Won't work,” Matt said immediately.

“Oh I know. For someone with a secret identity, you're an awful liar.”

Matt dipped his head in acquiescence.

“What did you tell Karen?”

“Nothing, at first. I figured there was no need to worry her when they thought it was just dehydration or whatever. But after you went into surgery, I called her and told her that you were in the hospital. I downplayed it a bit, didn't mention that you were possibly dying. She wanted to come, of course, but I talked her out of it.”

“Really?” Matt raised an eyebrow.

“I told her you had appendicitis and they had to do surgery. It's not entirely a lie,” he pointed out.

“You hate lying to her.”

“Yeah, but I also didn't want to worry her.”

“It was a justifiable worry,” Matt said quietly. He was aware how close he had come to death. Again. And this time there was no other person to blame. There was only a tumour, one that might have been the devil inside him all along.

Foggy slumped in his chair, the fight going out of him.

“You should leave,” Matt said gently. “Go back to the hotel, sleep for a solid six hours or whatever it is you normal people sleep for. Shower. Drink some of the terrible coffee they provide in the rooms. And only come back after you're done all that.”

“Is this a ploy to get me to leave so you can escape?”

Matt grinned. Foggy knew him too well.

“No, it's not. I promise.”

“It is getting close to dinner time,” Foggy said.

“And you really don't want to be here for that. Go find yourself some real food, and don't come back until tomorrow. I swear, I will still be here.”

“If you're lying to me, I will tell Karen about what you were actually in the hospital for, and you know she won't let that go for months, probably.”

Matt grimaced. No, she wouldn't. “That won't be needed. I have a feeling House would be as bad as you if I skipped out on him.”

Foggy agreed, and after a few minutes of fretting, left.

Matt laid back, alone for the first time in days. He wasn't rewarded with silence though. Hospitals were some of the noisiest places he'd ever been, and he lived in New York. Even without his senses, there was always someone moving down the hall, a nurse talking to a patient, a monitor going off. Further away there were children crying and doctors discussing differentials. It was never silent, even in the middle of the night.

So instead, he focused on the sounds closer to him that were consistent and soothing, and tried to sleep.

(True to his word, Matt did not climb out a window. True to his word, Foggy did not return to the hospital that night. Neither one of them slept well though.)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I TOLD YOU TO YELL AT ME IF I FORGOT TO POST FOR A WHILE.

Day seven of his admission, and Matt seemed to be itching to get out of the hospital. House suspected it was the longest time he'd ever been admitted, since the guy seemed like the kind to jump ship at the slightest provocation. Of course, that was assuming he ever got to the hospital, since he'd made mention of a nurse friend, who was presumably the one who patched him up most of the time.

House wondered if there was really a demand for that, and if so, where could he sign up?

 

That being said, Matt was improving. His blood pressure was normal, his incisions were healing well, and he was up and moving around his room. His labs were returning to normal, even if his appetite was still poor. (House didn't have any doubts of the reason for that. Hospital food was not fun.)

House was more than happy to discharge him, with one condition.

 

“A functional MRI?” Matt asked him.

“Yep. It can tell us which parts of your brain are being activated with your radar sense. See if the visual cortex has been taken over by auditory or vestibular functions.”

“I don't think I have any implanted metal,” Matt mused. “Some shrapnel, maybe? Nothing that I know about.”

“Wow, you must live an exciting life,” House drawled.

“As you may have guessed, I don't get most of my injuries treated in hospital,” Matt pointed out. “And while my nurse does an excellent job, even she doesn't have x-ray vision.”

“Maybe if you spill some chemicals on her she'll just get it,” House retorted.

“Not very likely,” Matt mused, like he was actually considering it.

“Well?”

“You'll discharge me if I agree to this, right?”

“I'll discharge you anyway, but this way it'll make everyone a lot happier,” House responded.

“I want to know the results,” he said.

“Of course. I'll even show you the pictures of your brain. Except...”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “Except that.”

“Could always 3-D print you your brain from the scans, but do you really want to be able to feel your brain?”

“Nope,” Matt said cheerily.

“Great. Let's go see if the machine is free. And by see, I mean I'll look, and you'll sit in a wheelchair and make a pathetic face.”

Matt frowned at him, and if House had a heart that was susceptible to that sort of thing, it would have broken.

“Just like that,” House declared. “Now get in the wheelchair.”

Matt tilted his head at him and looked pathetic, and House sighed. “Really man? What happened to your mad skills?”

“I'm medicated,” he said petulantly, taking House's offered hand. “I'm not on my game.”

He sat in the wheelchair without too much trouble, and House began the arduous task of pushing him all the way to radiology, his cane in Matt's lap.

“Really, you should be pushing me you know,” he quipped.

Matt smiled. “Right. Then we'd never get where we were supposed to go.”

House also didn't mention that Matt would be in too much pain to make it that far. He knew that he was no longer on the good drugs.

“But it would have been entertaining,” House told him.

Matt smiled even more broadly. “Probably,” he agreed.

House might have pushed the wheelchair into a nearby wall a little bit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can't see what you're pointing to House,” Matt said, with what he thought was a great deal of patience.

“When I asked you to map out the space inside the MRI machine, an area of your brain lit up that is normally used for vision.”

“Well it's not going to be used for vision, so I suppose it might as well get used for something else.”

“But it's not just that section you're using. You're also using the hearing sections and vestibular areas, and there's more activity than I've seen before in anyone's who's been blinded. You said you were nine?”

Matt nodded. “I've spent a greater percentage of my life without sight than with it, and that's only going to grow.”

“Even then,” House mused. “There is a lot going on in your brain.”

Matt shrugged. “I told you. I had training too. That could be a factor.”

“Maybe.” He didn't sound very sure.

 

“Oh no,” Matt said, feeling around for a watch that wasn't there. “What time is it?”

“Nearly noon. Why?”

“I promised Foggy I wouldn't leave, and if he gets back and finds me not in my room, he'll panic.”

“So? All your stuff is still there. I'm guessing if you bailed, you'd want real clothes.”

Matt winced. “Maybe not...” he mumbled. He recalled one time when Claire wanted to take him to the hospital because of a bad concussion, and Matt had escaped her apartment through a window, wearing nothing but his black pants. This was before the new costume.

Claire had called Foggy and Foggy had shown up at his apartment just as Matt was climbing in a window. He was not pleased.

“So we should probably get you back before he sends the whole hospital into a lockdown.”

Matt nodded.

“Can you find the wheelchair this time?”

Matt had a vague idea of where it was in the room. His senses were still suffering the effects of medications and lingering illness. He managed to get himself seated without injury, and House plopped his cane in Matt's lap, and began the long journey back to his room.

 

“So what did happen to your leg?” Matt asked. “I feel like we're level four friends now. Or... as close as we could be.”

“Infarction,” House said casually, pushing him down the hallway with a pronounced limp, even holding onto the handles of the wheelchair. “Like a heart attack, but in my leg. Without blood flow, the tissue died. Even when the blood flow was restored, the tissue was too damaged. Surgery to remove it left me with reduced strength and daily pain. What about you?”

“I hear... everything,” he said quietly. “I can't turn it off. I can turn it down, but it's like a radio, always playing in the background. I feel everything. I smell everything. I taste everything. I just can't see anything.”

“Crappy life,” House commented.

“Sometimes,” Matt agreed. And it was. Often times he hated having to hear so much when all he wanted to do was block it out. But it was also a gift sometimes, being able to hear what others couldn't. It allowed him to do what he did, to help people that others couldn't.

A great burden, according to Father Lantom. Sometimes it was just too great.

At least he got something out of his. He wasn't sure what House got. A lot of pain, if the pills he'd been popping were anything to go by. He really wasn't going to bring that up though.

 

Matt could tell they were getting close to his room. He could hear Foggy's heart beat, elevated. Worried or angry? He wasn't sure which one he'd prefer.

 

“There you are!” Foggy exclaimed as soon as they made it through the door. Worried then.

“Yep,” House told him, parking Matt next to the bed and taking his cane back. “I found him in the parking lot, pulling car doors to see which ones were unlocked. I think he was planning on driving away. Can you _believe_ that?”

Matt was pretty sure Foggy could.

“I wasn't,” he said quickly. “House took me for an MRI.”

“For what? Is there something else wrong with you?”

“No,” Matt protested. “House just wanted to see my brain.”

“In my defense, it is a very interesting brain,” House added.

“He wanted to see if the vision part of my brain was being used for other things,” Matt told him. “Which it is.”

Foggy considered that. “Huh.”

“Also,” Matt added, “House said I can go home now.”

Behind him, House nodded enthusiastically, probably with a ridiculous expression.

“Really?” Foggy asked. He sounded skeptical.

“Surgical sites are good, blood pressure normal, labs close enough. Oh, and the pathology came back on the tumour, completely benign. There's nothing we can do for him here that can't be done at home. And probably with a lot less noise and fuss,” he added.

Matt knew that would sway Foggy, if he wasn't convinced already.

“Okay,” he agreed.

Matt beamed. “Most of my stuff is packed already. I just have to get dressed.”

“In your sweats, right?” Foggy asked.

Matt felt like this was a trick question.

“... yes?”

“Because you weren't going to put on actual clothes for the drive home, were you?”

“No,” Matt mumbled.

“Damn right,” Foggy growled.  He rummaged through the bag of Matt's clothing, and a second later, a pile of soft fabric landed on his lap.

 

Matt climbed out of the wheelchair and felt his way towards the bathroom, where he changed from the scrubs he'd been given for the MRI. He'd been stuck wearing a gown for most of his stay, since he'd only packed one pair of sleep clothes that Foggy had taken away to be washed after two days straight of being worn.

His sweats were a nice change. Matt wasn't sure which shirt Foggy had thrown at him, but he suspected it wasn't his. He didn't have many t-shirts, and the few he did have were labelled so he could recognize their colours. This one had no such label, which led him to believe it wasn't his. Foggy must have brought it for him.

He attempted to flatten his hair down with some water, but he suspected it didn't work. Not that he could see it to tell, but his hair had a history of being unruly.

He shuffled on out of the bathroom again, to find Foggy talking with House. Or maybe arguing.

 

“Not the way we do it,” Foggy sighed. His heart rate was a bit elevated, and Matt would bet that House was smirking at him.

Foggy perked up a bit when he saw Matt. “Hey buddy. Good to go? I've got the rest of your stuff packed up in the bag. Watch,” he said, placing it in Matt's hand. “Cane,” he said a minute later, placing it in Matt's other hand. “Wheelchair,” he pointed. “I'm pointing at it,” he clarified. “Go sit.”

 

Matt muttered that he didn't need it, but didn't fight Foggy too hard.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends I TOLD YOU to throw something at me if I take this long to update. I really mean it.

Murdock's friend was pacing when House returned Matt to his room. Apparently he had been worried or something. Foggy sent him to get changed so they could leave.

Hoping that Matt couldn't, or more likely, wouldn't, listen, House decided that was a good time to give a few discharge instructions.

“He'll need to rest for a while. He's recovering from surgery. High calorie diet, lots of sleep, minimal exertion. He really shouldn't be... you know,” House lowered his voice. “Vigilante-ing for a while. Not unless he wants his abdominal organs to fall out because he tears through his still healing wound.” He was exaggerating, but he mostly wanted to see the look on Nelson's face.

“Can that really happen?” he whispered, before shaking his head and moving on. “I will try. I'll tie him down if that's what it takes.”

“Kinky,” House commented.

“Not really,” he admitted. “Not the way we do it.” he sighed. He brightened up when Matt came back, holding the scrubs balled up in his hands, wearing a Columbia t-shirt.

He got Matt ready to go, handing him his watch and cane before ordering him to sit in the wheelchair again.

Which was apparently when Murdock decided he needed to do something so annoying as thank House for saving him.

“Thanks,” Matt said. “Really.”

House waved a hand at him. He didn't do sentimentality. “You were interesting,” he said as way of explanation.

Murdock tilted his head. “Not at first.”

House ignored him.

“You became interesting. That's all that matters in the end.”

The side of Matt's mouth tilted up. “Is it?” he asked.

House scowled at him and changed the subject. “Don't go back to work right away,” he warned. He wasn't talking about being a lawyer, and they both know that. He also suspected Matt knew why. He still had layers of sutures holding his abdomen together, which wasn't really compatible with making spectacular jumps and fighting criminals.

He received a nod in response. “I know. What about my day job? Involves mostly sitting at a desk.”

“I think your partner has the answer to that one,” House replied. Foggy was standing behind Murdock, shaking his head slowly with a murderous look in his eyes.

“Next week maybe,” Matt said lightly. “Onward noble steed!” he beckoned, clutching his bag to his lap. Foggy sighed and pushed the wheelchair forward a bit.

“Thanks,” he said to House as he walked by. The little nod of his head said more than enough, and he looked down at Murdock's head with affection.

House resisted rolling his eyes. The two were clearly in love.

He watched them go with something akin to fondness.

As he was limping back to his office, content to go home for the rest of the week, Cuddy caught up with him.

“House, I need someone to cover clinic duty.”

“Nope,” House said automatically. “I just saved a blind lawyer who looks like a puppy. That's my good deed done for at least a year.”

Cuddy sighed at him, but didn't pursue him down the hall, and House counted that as a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to be doing marveltrumpshate, which is like a bidding war for a commission from fic writers, with the proceeds going to some super helpful organizations. If you want a fic written by me, on whatever topic you want (within some limits) then you can bid on me, starting... soon.
> 
> Check out the tumblr, https://marveltrumpshate.tumblr.com/  
> You can also sign up to be a creator, but only for like, one more day, so.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall are enjoying new daredevil episodes. I haven't seen them all yet because I'm in midterm hell (rip me)

“You had what?” Claire screeched.

Matt winced. Even with the phone held an arm's length away from his ear, it was still painful.

“Do I actually need to repeat it or are you just in disbelief? Because to be honest, I'm not sure I know how to repeat it.”

“The second one,” she snapped. “Do you know how rare that is? How did you even get diagnosed? Why didn't you tell me? I'd have come to see you in the hospital, you know that.”

“I wasn't in New York,” he explained. “Foggy and I were at a conference in Princeton.”

“Okay, but why didn't you call?” she sighed. “I would have liked to know.”

“Blame Foggy for that,” he replied, and switched the phone to his other ear so Foggy couldn't grab it away. “He was the one doing the calling. I was a bit... out of it for a few days.”

“He nearly had a stroke and then had surgery,” Foggy yelled, loud enough that Claire could definitely hear.

“ _What_?” she shrieked.

“Maybe?” he said hopefully. “I think my blood pressure was just a little high. He's exaggerating about the stroke thing. I did have surgery, but it was laparoscopic, so I'm fine Claire. Look, I'm fine now, okay?”

“You damn well better be,” she growled. “I'm coming over to check on you.”

“Claire, we're not even back in New York yet. We're... where are we Foggy?”

“New Brunswick.”

“New Brunswick,” he echoed. “The city, not the province in Canada.” He frowned. “I hope.”

Foggy snorted. “We're not going anywhere but home. Tell Claire she can come visit tonight. We'll be at your place.”

Matt placed a hand over his phone. “We?”

“I'm sure as hell not leaving you alone buddy.”

Matt sighed. “Foggy says you can come over tonight.”

“I'll be there. And Matt, out of curiosity, who was your doctor?”

“Dr House.”

“Thought so. Is he as much of a dick as everyone says?”

Matt considered House throwing things at him, how he had Matt woken up shortly after being intubated so he could gloat, the MRI he'd received in order to leave.

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “But he's also as good as they say.”

“Well thank god for that,” Claire sighed.

Matt had to agree. “I'll talk to you later, okay?”

“Take care of yourself,” she told him.

“I will,” he told her, before hanging up.

“I will be telling her everything, of course,” Foggy told him.

“I would expect nothing less,” Matt grinned.

“Get some sleep,” he ordered. “I'll wake you up when we get home.”

Matt tilted the chair back and closed his eyes.

“Only because you insisted,” he mumbled.

Foggy tossed something at him, probably a sweater based on the shape, and he wrapped it around him like a blanket. It smelled like home, a place that Matt solely missed, despite being gone for just over a week.

Maybe recovering wouldn't be so bad.

(Two days later, stuck on the couch with no end to Foggy's mothering in sight, he was starting to think he was wrong.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you want to donate money to get me to write a thing for you, you can do that!   
> https://mthofferings.tumblr.com/tagged/whitchry9
> 
>  
> 
> Also I do have another remix of this like... plotted, but nowhere near done, so possibly never expect it okaythanksbye.


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